Today we walked from Barcelos to Balugâes.
Pasolini called his film The Gospel According to Matthew. If he could drop the Saint, so can I: it’s not São Tiago or Santiago from now on, just Tiago. Here’s today’s crop of call-them-poems.
A huge toad
flattened on the road
like a childhood memory.
——
No need to ask if we’re lost
or where we want to go,
just smile and point.
——
Whipper-snipping
bale-wrapping
tractor-driving
hedge-uprooting
rotary-hoeing
barrow-wheeling
bean-picking
hand-hoeing
cow-and-sheep-driving
grass-raking:
farmers working up a sweat.
Pilgrims walking one up.
——
A road sign:
a snowflake
inside a red triangle.
(The obedient snow is keeping a safe distance.)
Me fail? I fly! 